A Ginger Phenomenon
by froga10t
Summary: Post-War, before the Nineteen years later bit...Hermione and Ginny are finally coming to grips with their feelings for each other...but how will the others react?


**AN. First try at proper girl-love, but I'm a bigggggg supporter, so enjoy! Hermione/Ginny, if you don't like, don't read**

**DISCLAIMER: I have decided to put disclaimers in... :D HP isn't mine, I wish it was! (Then I would be worth £500m...)**

A Ginger Phenomenon

I, Hermione Jane Granger, am in love. Oh dear.

I first noticed her as I gawped out of the window of the Hogwarts express, in awe of the magical families, and waved at my parents, grinning insanely; she was hiding behind a woman – her mother, I supposed - gazing at a boy with messy black hair a scar…I got distracted because I knew exactly who he was from the books I had been reading. But my eyes were drawn back to the cute girl with bright red hair and bright brown eyes, sparkling with wonder at the marvel before her nine-year-old self.

When she entered the school the preceding year I saw her a few times, but, when I was petrified and she was locked in the Chamber of Secrets…well, let's say it was difficult to see her much. However, whenever we were together with Ron and Harry, we always found we stuck together – being girls – and began to get on well. Her bright temperament and cunning nature interested me and her looks were, even from a young age, stunning, though I admit I didn't consider that much whilst I was young.

When I stayed at their house we rubbed along nicely and I guess I introduced her to a more feminine way, after all she was brought up in a house of boys, and her beauty began to shine through. It was then Harry began to notice her, though he didn't realise it himself, and others did too. Her beauty, intelligence and links to fame made her more and more popular as the years went on, leading to numerous short-term boyfriends and a rather frayed relationship with her older brother, Ron; she often came running to my dorm late at night for advice, tears simply pouring down her face with worry or regret. I gradually became a source of comfort and knowledge, and she became almost my little sister, we got along so well, but sometimes she would irritate me as she played around with boys.

Throughout this close relationship we had moments, tantalising hints, of something more. There was a feeling deep down in both of us, a fear of rejection, prejudice, that led to these being stifled quickly, but they still happened. Sitting on a sofa, with her curled up in my arms as she sighed happily and played with my fingers; I remember vaguely running my fingers through her silky hair and kissing her head lightly as she drifted off to sleep. I tried to stay awake to watch her, but soon also gave in to dreams.

Running through the long grass in the meadow behind The Burrow, hands linked pulling each other away from the teasing boys, hurtling towards bushes to hide and ending up piled together under a shrub. I felt her breath on my face, her smell filling my nose, her eyes gazing straight into mine, barely inches away. My cheeks warmed slightly, I looked away, but she smoothed the side of my cheek gently with the back of her hand, a confused haze in her eyes. If the boys hadn't found us, I don't know what could have happened…

It was in those moments, I think, that I vaguely suspected my feelings, but I barely considered them and constantly pushed them away. I hoped that my growing love for Ron would lead to me forgetting his sister and those moments. It didn't, surprisingly enough, and as we grew older I found myself fighting a loosing battle with myself, waging war with an unprecedented and much unexpected emotion. Suddenly, the war swept me away and I immediately engulfed myself in it; secretly, I knew that I was using it to get away, but I told myself that forgetting her was simply a sad coincidence, but for the better.

The problem with forgetting in the heat of war is that it's not really forgotten, just buried beneath many layers of pain and sorrow – it is hard to find a light in such a vast, gloomy darkness.

My life straight after the war was a haze of pain, physical and emotional, loneliness and confusion; it was hard to know who to turn to, who to trust and it took many years for me to finally let go of the horror of war. I remember my relationship with Ron throughout that, the long-deterred passion, the comfort, the companionship. But it couldn't last. We fought, often and vigorously, we broke up and made up a lot, we were up and down and always on eggshells, for many reasons I guess, but the reason doesn't matter. Eventually, about two years after the war we finally gave in to the inevitable and split. Being friends again was easy, for we had barely kissed in the relationship and had basically acted as friends anyway – with the pressure off, we returned to a friendly state.

But about a year ago, a few weeks after Ron and I had broken up, I was snuggled up with Ginny on the sofa in the Burrow; it was Molly and Arthur's wedding anniversary – some big one, I wasn't quite sure – and I was staying over the night after the party before I went back to my flat in London. Everyone except Ginny and I had gone out again for a drink – well, the men had, but Molly met up with some friends for dinner – so it was just us. Ginny had already had a bit to drink, and so had I, but we decided to open another bottle of champagne; that disappeared in a very short time as we chatted, so we poured out some wine and toasted her parents. As the evening drew on, we became more and more intoxicated and began to tell each other secrets, things we had never told anyone, our most intimate mysteries.

At first, they were simply childhood crushes and gross things, but as the fire-whiskey was drunk and the lights dimmed, our more serious secrets escaped.

"Herm-mione" Ginny hiccupped, "I never told you why me and Harry spilt up after the war, did I?" her face had become sombre, so I calmed down and looked back at her.

"You told me something to do with pressure, but not really, no…why?" I ruffled her hair and eyed her questioningly.

"I…I kissed…" she muttered, pausing to sniff, "I kissed someone else!" I laughed.

"So?" I asked.

"It...She was a girl!" I protested.

"…and? As long as you still liked Harry…" I trailed off uncertainly, for she was looking unstable.

"I didn't! I liked her…but she reminded me that I liked someone a lot more than either of them…I _loved_ someone..." she sniffed again. "Well…I love someone…" My eyes widened and I gasped theatrically.

"Ginervra Weasley! You LOVE somebody?!" I cried. She nodded miserably, slouched on the sofa arm. "Why was I not informed?" I winked. "It's okay, but who is it? Have you ever told the-?"

"NO!" she yelped, jumping in her seat. "God no! Never…I couldn't."

"Who is it?" I persevered, giggling at her reaction. Despite having been sobered up by the announcement, I was still quite tipsy. "Do I know them?" she nodded almost unnoticeably. "Who? Who? Is it…" I gasped again, "Is it a teacher?!"

"No!" She laughed. I liked that, I was glad she was smiling again. "No, no, that'd be gross! It's…it's someone who could never like me back. Love is out of the question…well, I think it is."

"Why don't you just tell them and be done with it? Get them as drunk as we are and they'll never remember!" I giggled, snorting a bit and pulling a stupid face at her. "But tell me first!" I insisted again, pulling an arm around her and hugging her shoulders. She immediately turned bright red and closed her eyes tightly. That face…my mind cleared and I suddenly knew…about her, about myself. As she looked up at me through her eyelashes, it was like all the sound in the world was muffled; I looked in her deep brown eyes and gazed, shocked at the confessions written in them.

Without a word, feeling my own face burning up and my heart pounding in my chest, I leaned forward and planted a kiss right on her lips. I waited for her to respond, and she did so passionately, desperately. When we broke the kiss we both stared at each other. A silence ensued, so painful I couldn't bear it, but I didn't have to as she pushed me against the sofa and kissed me again.

Suddenly, I pulled away as thoughts rushed into my head and I remembered who I was kissing. Ginny Weasley. _Ginny Weasley_. I pushed myself away from her, staring at her as my usually speedy brain slowed to a halt with the deluge of information. Was it right? Did she like me? Would anyone walk in now? What if this, what if that, so many questions surging around my head…just as suddenly again, Ginny took my head in her hands and kissed me squarely on the lips. She sighed, smiled, and ran a hand down my face, nuzzling her nose to mine.

"Hey, 'Mione. You okay with this?" she murmured slightly apprehensively. I gazed, entranced, into her eyes, before starting as I realised she was speaking.

"Y-yes. Of course!" I protested. "Ginny, I…I love you!" I gasped. I had just said it. She grinned almost evilly and whispered, "I love you too" before wrapping her arms around me.

We fell asleep like that, only woken in the morning by the smell of breakfast. Someone had placed a blanket over us while we slept, so we were warm, but stiff. The warm morning air brushed our faces and the sunshine peering through the half-open curtains began to warm our skin.

I snuggled into Ginny's arms, rubbing my nose in her shoulder and inhaling her scent. It was like a love potion…

I sprang to my feet, despite my throbbing headache and grabbed my things. What had I done? What _had_ I _done_?! I _Accio-_ed everything that was mine, called to Molly that I was leaving and hurried out. Armed with a messily packed bag and very smudged make-up, I apparated to my apartment in London. As it was summer, few people were around and I didn't bother to clean myself up behind my bush before hurrying inside; I threw myself into a shower after peeling my clothes off and washed myself vigorously, as if to try to wipe off last night's memories. They were amazing, but I knew she didn't mean it - she was even more drunk than I was – so I had to forget, as she probably had after passing out. I had to get away, and I knew exactly where to go.

Clean and fresh, with a small suitcase, I locked up the apartment and called next door to tell them I was going away and to tell the landlord; I was ready and walked briskly to my favourite apparating spot, in the park behind a large bush. When I reached it, I immediately closed my eyes and concentrated hard on where I knew I could relax and escape, the only place: the Wizarding Library.

It was a place I had discovered from various sources, such as books long ago borrowed and lost, only to be found and kept, but still with the label in them, or newspaper articles or textbooks referencing it. It had seemed fascinating, so once, a few years ago I had visited it. It was awe-inspiring and I could barely leave my ideal world of quiet, knowledge and constant yet refreshing companionship. The musty, warm smell and the earthy colours of the covers of the thousands upon thousands of books papering the walls of the library, a tower hidden in a wood though I had no idea where, where all the books of the Wizarding world could be found, it was simply amazing and I was drawn to it, naturally, so went there to escape the madness of my life.

I landed on the doorstep and walked straight in, pulling the door closed as softly as I could and kicking my shoes off. I picked them up and stepped onto the luxuriously thick, cream carpet, wriggling my bare toes, and proceeded to the Magical Fiction department; I dropped my things unceremoniously on a deep oak table with my jacket and began to walk along the isle, running my fingers along the books. One was sticking out, so I picked it out, sank into a crimson armchair and began to read.

Time seemed to glide past and slipped away as I became engulfed in the land of dragons and unicorns, which I could finally appreciate as real and living; over time, I began to feel drowsier and eventually fell asleep, my book slipping from my hands to land with a soft thud on the floor.

"'Mione! There you are…" Ginny murmured as she hurried into the library; I had told her about this place and Ginny guessed I would be here. She sat down next to me on the arm of the chair and put an arm around me, stroking my hair so softly I wanted to nuzzle her hand, but I waited. "'Mione, 'Mione, 'Mione…what am I going to do with you?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else, and bent over and whispered in my ear, "I love you…it's okay, I promise. I have loved you…for a long time, I think, but never realised it until recently. I began to hope you liked me too…you, with your beautiful hair and gorgeous face and figure, and your wit and intelligence and courage and strength and _everything_. I admire you so much…somehow it just turned into more…Do you think we could ever be together? We can trust each other, but I'm afraid. I…I just want to be with you."

"Really?" I whispered. Ginny leapt up and pointed at me, the picture of shock, shaking slightly.

"You – you – you! D-don't do that! Pretending to sleep… you…" I giggled, as a tiny blush warmed her complexion, and I tugged gently on Ginny's top.

"Come, sit back down." I smiled and tugged again. "Sit with me…I…" (Now, I am told, I went exceptionally red) "I agree…I want to be together…"

Ginny gaped for a second, then leapt forward and hugged me as hard as she could, kissing my cheek in the process.

"So, will you go out with me?" she asked, leaning back to look me straight in the eye. I hesitated, then nodded shyly.

"Yes!"

**PREVIEW!!**

For a good few weeks we managed to keep it secret, but when Ron and Harry walked in on us kissing, I think they realised. I had invited them around for dinner, along with Luna and Neville, for a re-union and Ginny had come earlier to help put dishes out and cook, when we had – inevitably for us – ended up kissing and flirting over the china. Just as the boys walked in the open door, quickly followed by Luna and Neville. Whoops.

**AN. That's how the next chapter starts! I'm writing it now :) Remember to review! :P**


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